¹To thee I’ll cry, O Lord, my rock;

hold not thy peace to me;

Lest like those that to pit descend

I by thy silence be.

²The voice hear of my humble pray’rs,

when unto thee I cry;

When to thine holy oracle

I lift mine hands on high.

³With ill men draw me not away

that work iniquity;

That speak peace to their friends, while in

their hearts doth mischief lie.

⁴Give them according to their deeds

and ills endeavoured:

And as their handy-works deserve,

to them be rendered.

⁵God shall not build, but them destroy,

who would not understand

The Lord’s own works, nor did regard

the doing of his hand.

⁶For ever blessed be the Lord,

for graciously he heard

The voice of my petitions,

and prayers did regard.

⁷The Lord’s my strength and shield; my heart

upon him did rely;

And I am helped: hence my heart

doth joy exceedingly,

And with my song I will him praise.

⁸Their strength is God alone:

He also is the saving strength

of his anointed one.

⁹O thine own people do thou save,

bless thine inheritance;

Them also do thou feed, and them

for evermore advance.